I laughed. “Oh, yeah. I’ve been Auntie Looney since they could talk. Technically, since I was born. My sister, Ashley, was four when I came home from the hospital. She was hooked on Looney Tunes at the time. The nickname stuck.”
He let out a soft laugh, but there was something in his eyes, like he was making sure it was okay to laugh. “Does it bother you?”
I shook my head. “Usually, no. I mean, she’s my big sister. She’s allowed to call me things no one else can.” I paused, feeling a little twist in my chest. “And it’s okay. I always know Ash loves me for me.”
Noah nodded, his gaze dropping for a second. “I always wondered what it’d be like to have a sibling.” His faint smile didn’t quite reach his eyes.
His meaning settled in slowly. It wasn’t just about wanting a brother or sister. It was about not having one. About growing up without a built-in ally. About being the only one there to carry the weight.
His mom had raised him alone. That much I knew. He’d needed her, but now, it was kind of obvious that she needed him. There was no one else.
And that kind of expectation? That kind of responsibility.
That would shape a person.
Before I could think of what to say, he glanced around at the thinning crowd. “Park’s emptying out.”
Not long until closing time then. The once-busy paths were quieting, families heading toward the gondola station, the energy of the place winding down.
“One more ride?” he asked, and the way he said it—low, a little rebelliously—made my pulse skip.
I didn’t hesitate. “Okay.”
And since a more daring version of myself had temporarily possessed me, I didn’t even flinch when he led me straight to the canyon swing.
The one from the TikTok video.
“All right, I know you said you weren’t interested in this one, but come on, when are you gonna get a chance like this again?” Noah grinned as he tugged me along.
I didn’t really get the thrill-seeking stuff, not exactly, but he was looking carefree and excited again. And come on, Luna, it’s just a swing.
“We don’t have to if you don’t want to, though. We could always find something else.”
I shook my head. “No, it’s fine. Let’s do it.”
The ride operator was leaning against the control panel, checking his watch when we arrived.
“You guys are just in time for the last ride of the night.” He gestured toward the swing—a cluster of bright red and yellow seats, suspended under a large metal structure that was anchored right at the edge of the cliff. In the distance, I could hear cars on the highway, the same one we’d passed over earlier.
There would be nothing between us and a deadly fall except a plastic-covered metal bar.
My stomach fluttered, but I ignored it. I was bold. Fearless.
Limitless.
I can do this.
Four seats were situated back-to-back, two of them facing out toward the canyon while the other two were facing the mountainside. I wasn’t sure which option would be more terrifying. Deciding to follow Noah’s lead, I climbed after him, settling into a pair of mountain-facing seats, and the operator pulled the big lap bars down, first mine, then Noah’s. There was nobody else to take the seats on the other side.
A few seconds later, the ride started moving.
At first, it was fine. Gentle. A simple swing, but with the added hiss of hydraulic pressure pushing us forward and then back, a little higher and faster each time.
Hiss…Whoosh!
A little—hoo boy! The push on that one was definitely…a bit…
Oh, no. I stared at the top of the mountain, and then as that dropped away, up into the great expanse of blue beyond it as we seemed to hover at the end of the arc, our backs parallel to the ground.
